


Practice

by ghostdrives



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Dreams, Emotional Tether(s), F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 12:08:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8577991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostdrives/pseuds/ghostdrives
Summary: "Dancing? Really?""Hey, gotta have something different every night, right? Wouldn’t want you to get bored." She scoffs at that- as if whatever this nightly visit was could ever get boring. "Besides, I told you you were the first girl I ever danced with. I didn’t get a chance to mention you were my favorite girl to dance with.""Please. You’re going to have to do better than that, Stilinski."(short drabble set after 6x01 because i'm in pain)





	

**Author's Note:**

> why did i write this  
> Oh, right. Because I'm emotionally destroyed from that premiere and have lost all control over my life.  
> Just a quick little sappy drabble to get some feelings out- I am definitely not the person who thought of the whole "Stiles and Lydia can meet in dreams because they're emotional tethers/anchors" trope but I've seen it around a lot of places and wanted to try a quick little spin on it. Thanks for reading, and good luck to all of us this season!!

Lydia isn’t aware of falling asleep or even waking up so much as she becomes aware that she  _ is  _ aware again, and is definitely not in her bed. Her eyes are closed and her head is resting on something, but it’s not a pillow- it seems to be someone’s shoulder. That someone is humming in an  _ extremely _ off-key way to a song that is playing in the background, just outside of her recognition, and the two of them seem to be dancing slowly and lazily to it.

“Here we are again.”

Stiles’ voice cuts through her attempts to recognize the song and she finds herself tightening her grip on his arms as if out of instinct for just a moment.

“Here we are again.” She repeats, turning her head to the side and opening her eyes to try and figure out just where “here” is. 

It seems to be the school’s gym, but it looks different than the last time they danced there together. It’s brighter somehow and decorated differently, and they’re alone instead of surrounded by other dancing teenagers. She can tell by the softness of his shirt under her cheek that he’s just wearing a flannel shirt instead of a suit, and she herself is wearing a much more comfortable dress than she would normally be caught dead in at any sort of formal occasion. It seems more like they cut class to go dance in the gym instead of waiting for an actual event to start. 

“Dancing? Really?”

“Hey, gotta have something different every night, right? Wouldn’t want you to get bored.” She scoffs at that- as if whatever this nightly visit was could ever get boring. “Besides, I told you you were the first girl I ever danced with- I didn’t get a chance to mention you were my  _ favorite _ girl to dance with.”

She can’t help it- at that she raises her head and takes a look at his face. He’s grinning at her in a satisfied way and looks far, far less stressed and tired than she has seen him in real life in a very long time, and probably far, far,  _ far  _ less than he must currently look, wherever it is that he is.

“Please. You’re going to have to do better than that, Stilinski.”

“You know you can’t say something like that and not expect me to  _ actually _ try harder.”

“I’m well aware. Why do you think I said it?” His smile widens, and she knows this is a challenge he’ll have no problem accepting. 

“At least you stopped humming. That improves the dance a lot.”

“What? My humming is amazing, even better than my dancing.” He appears scandalized. “Although that’s pretty great, too. Ready?”

She doesn’t get a chance to ask what she’s supposed to be ready for before he lets go of one of her hands and raises the other one up, clumsily spinning her.

“See? Might as well be a professional. Now you do me.”

She gives him a disbelieving look but he’s waggling his eyebrows at her and she can’t help but comply. Of course, he’s taller than she is and  _ way _ less graceful, so he nearly falls over as she spins him. She’s not surprised.

“You’re not even a smooth dancer in your dreams!” She can’t help but laugh with him as they rejoin together after that minor setback.

“Or is it  _ your  _ dreams?”

“Would that be better, or worse?”

“Worse for me, at least.”

She shakes her head at that as they regain their simple swaying from before. She still can’t put her finger on what song is playing, but it’s calming, if anything. 

“I guess we’ll just have to practice more.”

“I guess so.”

She knows from the changed tone in his voice that they’ve both hit that point, the point where they can’t pretend that this is just a normal situation anymore. This isn’t the first time she’s dreamt about him since he was taken, although she never knows if it will be the last. It seems to happen most nights; she’ll fall asleep from a day of not remembering him and wake up here with him, remembering absolutely everything only for it to all fade away by the time she wakes up. She’ll remember nothing about him or the dream until she falls asleep again- she was pleased to discover the second time that she remembered the first dream, at least, and would keep remembering past dreams as long as she was in them. That is, if they were actually dreams at all.

The rational part of her (and that was a very, very strong part of her) told her that they were  _ of course _  just dreams; just her subconscious somehow being strong enough to pierce through the memory loss that had affected her to give her what she really wanted- to be with him and remembering him, again. But then again, the more hopeful part of her told her that this didn’t feel like just a dream. It  _ felt  _ real. She  _ wanted  _ it to be real. And if there werewolves and banshees running around in the world and ghost riders that kidnapped people and erased them from people’s memories and emotional tethers that connected people strongly enough to bring each other back from the dead, then why  _ couldn’t _ they be real? She deserved that much, at least. They both did.

“I miss you.” The words are out of her mouth before she can stop herself from this level of vulnerability, and she tries to cover it up as best as she can. “I mean, Scott and Malia are  _ actually _ amazing dancers. Not as much fun to make fun of.” He laughs but it sounds hollow, and his next words sound anything but humorous.

“You can’t miss what you don’t remember.” He reminds her gently, and she pulls away to look him in the face again, all feeble pretense of avoiding vulnerability gone. 

“You think just because I don’t remember you I can’t feel like something’s missing?” She demands. His face softens.

“Can you?” He sounds almost hopeful. She nods forcefully.

“Of course I can. Just today I had the longest, most productive study session I’ve had in years in the library.” He looks confused, but that doesn’t deter her. “Several hours, no interruptions, no annoyances. Even then I knew that something was obviously missing.” He smiles a genuine smile at that, and she finds one growing on her face as well. 

“Right, obviously. No one running up to you with questions about supernatural creatures-”

“Or homework-”

“Or opinions on how you think Scott is holding up with Kira gone-” 

“Or pictures that you  _ think _ are hilarious and just  _ have  _ to show me-”

“Hey! Those pictures are  _ always  _ hilarious, and you know it.”

“Those pictures are  _ sometimes _ a  _ little bit _ funny.” And that’s all she’ll give him, but it seems to be enough for him because he looks like he’s won a major victory.

“Are you actually telling me you miss me dragging you out of bed in the middle of the night to go chase down supernatural leads?”

“You’re still sort of dragging me out of bed every night. It’s just a little different.”

“Just a little.” And now it’s his turn to tighten his grip on her just slightly.

They dance a little longer before she starts to feel the stirring of herself waking up; morning always comes so soon.

“Stiles, listen. It won’t be much longer, okay?” She promises, placing a hand on his cheek (ignoring the way his breath catches when she does so) and trying her damnedest to reassure him, to repay him for all the reassurances he’s offered her so freely throughout the years. “I am going to remember you, and I am going to find you. Okay?” And unbelievably, ridiculously, he looks like he  _ believes  _ her. Sure, he looks upset, but only about the fact that their short reunion is once again at an end; his eyes staring steadily into hers are full of nothing but faith and belief in her and she feels a little lightheaded to see it, just as she did so long ago when she sat on his bed while he untangled her fingers of red string and told her not to doubt herself.

“I know you will.” He says, giving her a lopsided smile. “That’s what I keep telling everyone here, that a pretty girl's coming to rescue me. They just don’t seem to believe me, for some reason.”

The music fades and so does the gym, slow and shimmery until all she can see is his face, which she’s trying her hardest to hold onto just as she does every night, begging herself to remember even a glimmer of it when she wakes up. She lowers her hand from his cheek into his hands as his face, too, starts to shimmer away and she feels herself waking up almost completely. She grips them as tight as she can, as if she can somehow pull him back with her through sheer force of will.

“And, Stiles, I want  _ you _ to remember-” She starts but then he’s gone and everything seems fuzzy and silent and blank until her eyes open and she finds herself staring at her bedroom ceiling, alarm blaring. She turns it off immediately, huffing at the annoying noise before taking a moment to wonder why on earth there seem to be tears in her eyes. Probably just a weird dream, but there’s that nagging feeling of having forgotten something that she’s had for several days now. Well, there was no use being late for school over it, so she starts texting Malia to see if she wants a ride this morning. She’s sure she’ll figure it out soon.

_ Remember that I love you, too.  _


End file.
